The Last Daughter of Akatosh
by Shadow182
Summary: The Dragonborn returns to Skyrim more than two years after Alduin's defeat, to tie up some loose ends, settle an old score, and hopefully heal a wounded heart. It's time to show Tamriel what it means to be Dragonborn. (Includes Companions storyline and some Civil War & Mages Guild. Dragonborn x Vilkas, some DB x Vorstag Rated for Violence, Sexual Content)
1. Prologue

**So, I'm having trouble with my first Skyrim fic. Every time I sit down and try to write for it, about 2000 words of it's sequel start pouring out instead. For this reason, I decided to say 'fuckitt' and publish the followup as a hopefully stand alone story.**

**There may come a day when I get around to continuing DBatB, but it is not this day. Enjoy!**

* * *

Prologue

It was the night the Throat of the World roared.

Over the peaks of the mountains, the clouds began to flash with silent lightning, and the bones of the earth trembled as mortal blood battled in the world of the Gods; then like a crack of thunder, a dragon's roar ripped across Skyrim.

"_Zu'u unslaad, zu'u nis oblaan! Daar Lein los dii!_"

As the thundering faded it left a swirl of snow in its wake, and after a minutes eerie silence those in Ivarstead and Riverwood told of Dragons crying to the skies, speaking in an ancient tongue as they circled the top of the mountain. The roars of the dragons were heard as far as Whiterun, and some beyond;

"_Mu los vomir! Al-Du-In mahlaan! Sahrot thur qahnaraan, Dovahkiin los ok dovahkriid! Thu'umii los nahlot!" - _"We are free, Alduin has fallen! Mighty overlord is vanquished, Dragonborn is his dragonslayer! His shouts are silenced!"

Though Dragons still roamed the skies of Skyrim, the first born of Akatosh was no more.

It was also the day the Dragonborn disappeared.

The legend of the Dovahkiin flying from Dragonsreach on the back of Odahviing spread like wildfire across Skyrim, almost as quickly as the news of Alduin's defeat. But her return was never announced; she never returned to Whiterun, never told the world that Alduin was defeated or what truly happened that fateful day. She simply vanished; the Dragonborn had perished along with Alduin in Sovngaurd.

There were of course rumours every time a red-headed Breton woman was sighted in any of the holds; that she had been seen in the Riften Ratway hiding out with the Thieves Guild, that she had gone to Markarth and crossed with a band of Forsworn back into Highrock. There was talk of strange robed men who had come to Skyrim in search of her or she'd sailed off from Windhelm with a band of corsairs; some speculated she had simply never come down from the Throat of the World and retired to High Hrothgar.

But as the months slipped by, the rumours began to fade… Winter gave way to Spring and on to Summer; The Imperials and Stormcloaks again took up arms and the civil war of Skyrim raged on, bringing the East and West into a stalemate. The Thieves Guild regained footing in Skyrim, the likes of which had been unseen for decades.

Two years passed.

The story of the Dragonborn was permitted to fade into song and legend… that is, till whispers began to cross the sea from Solstheim.


	2. Swimming Home

Swimming Home

I huddled the fur around me to protect from the cold chill that swept over the ocean. The Dunmer clothing was warm enough, though better suited to protecting from ash storms than sleet. The boat lurched and creaked rhythmically with the ocean though the choppy sea wasn't enough to worry the crew onboard; indeed they declared we had a good wind behind us and if it held we'd make excellent time to Windhelm.

I couldn't share their enthusiasm, it felt so strange returning to Skyrim. When we'd launched from Raven Rock I'd been excited, so eager to return and see my brother again but we'd not crossed halfway when I found myself watching over my shoulder as Solstheim slowly disappeared behind me. It's a little bizarre, I know, the small Dunmer settlement was hardly a happy or charming place to live. During the Summertime there were precious few hours of night, and in the Winter the whole island was shrouded in darkness for most of the day. The northern half of the island was practically encased in ice and the lower part was blanketed every day with ash blowing over from Red Mountain in Morrowind. The same ash that made most of the surrounding ocean too toxic for any good fishing and the land too barren to produce anything but the most rudimentary of vegetables.

Would I miss eating ash yam, slaughterfish and imported dried fruits and vegetables every single day? No.

But I would miss Solstheim.

I'd miss the people; the pragmatic yet charming dark elves, the isolated but amiable Skal. I'd miss the gruff miners and the home I'd been given, the burrow in Raven Rock. Hell I'd even miss Tel Mithryn, the beautiful, incredible mushroom buildings Neloth had grown for his home. I might even miss the self-absorbed, tyrannical, _brilliant_ wizard himself.

A derisive snort shot out of my throat. Two years, for _two years_ after defeating Miirak I'd studied under Neloth (in exchange for the glorious task of running endless errands for him), learning the art behind enchanting, having chances to practise and improve my Destruction and Alteration abilities. I'd gotten _good_. My enchantments we becoming more and more powerful, the crafting flowed from me so naturally… I'd gotten too good.

After re-reading a particular book called _Twin Secrets_ I'd gone to him and asked if he could teach me any more about enchanting. He'd raised his sharp eyebrows and given me a flat stare with those blood-red eyes.

"I could, but I won't. It wouldn't do to have you become better than me after all."

So. Just like that, I was done. And I wasn't particularly welcome to spend time studying on my own at Tel Mithryn unless I was running ridiculous errands for him. And considering the fact he placed preserving his own supremacy over the possibility of unlocking further knowledge, I had no interest in staying any longer.

Unfortunately, being a mining settlement Raven Rock was not exactly an educational hub.

Well… aside from the Black Books…

I bit my lip almost hungrily when I thought of them. The Black Books; tomes of esoteric knowledge crafted by the Daedric Prince Hermaus Mora, portals into the world of Apocrypha… every book ever written and _not_ written, a trove of soul gems, of powerful mental gifts and-

I clutched at my skull and shook my head suddenly. _No_. No, I wouldn't give in to the thirst, I wouldn't become like Miirak.

There it was, the real reason I wanted to leave Solstheim behind. So I could leave the Books behind, keep myself free from the temptation of opening them. Hermaus Mora's gifts do not come free; it starts simply enough, you perform a small task for him, one you do not even know you are performing, and are rewarded. Then the allure of infinite knowledge becomes just too tantalising… Miirak, the first Dragonborn, became a slave to it and spent a near eternity trapped in Apocrypha, a servant to Hermaus Mora.

"Land ho!"

My head snapped up at the declaration; in the distance through the fog I could just start making out the cold stone walls of Windhelm. Around me the deck became a blur of activity as we closed in on the docks. I eventually stood and dropped the fur from my shoulders, hoisting my heavy swag onto my back and as always keeping the leather bound satchel with me. Making my way to the bow of the ship, the shadowy figures on the docks started to become clearer. There were the dark Argonian dockworkers… and among them, another figure dressed in dark leathers.

The grin broke over my face when I could see that flame red hair. Tristane, waving an arm high at me, and across the last stretch of water I heard him bellow out, 'Ahoy there!'

The docks of Windhelm slowly grew, and as we closed in I could see his bright smile; he was waiting there on the edge of the dock and every sorrow I'd felt in leaving Solstheim was washed away; seeing my brother, I truly felt I was coming home.

The boat carefully pulled up along the dock, and I leapt down from the deck before the crew had even fastened the ship. Tristane pulled me in to an embrace, lifting my feet from the ground briefly and I hugged him back tightly, joy bubbling in my chest. Yes, family was worth returning to Skyrim.

He pushed me back a bit, hands tight on my arms so he could survey me.

"By the Eight, Ellie what are you _wearing_?"

My shoulders dropped and I rolled my eyes, "Yes, Triss, I'm happy to see you too."

He only laughed and pulled me back in for another tight hug, scruffing a hand over my hood. With an arm slung over my shoulder (uncomfortably, as he was barley an inch taller than me) we began walking back along the dock towards the gates of the city.

"So, you got some merchandise for me? I've got Niranye to help move it, if anything's hot…?"

He dropped the last few words lower; behind us the crew was moving a few small boxes from the ship. Ravenrock might have been slowly growing now the mine was reopened but my trade options were still quite limited.

"No. Well, most of it isn't. There are two staffs that may need some special handling, but most of it is just the junk I accumulated over there and couldn't sell off."

Triss blinked at me, and back to the boxes, "Junk? _You_ accumulated junk?"

"Well, I was doing a lot of dungeon diving. Also studying enchantment which results in a lot of enchanted _junk_. I don't need twenty silver necklaces, and neither for that matter do the merchants in Ravenrock."

Tristane blinked at me quizzically, then back at the crates being stacked, then back at me.

"Just how much did you… have you got a manifest?"

"Of course."

I pulled the parchment from my pocket and handed it to him which he eagerly started scanning, eyes slowly widening as he went, muttering a few of the items under his breath. I knew he'd be well pleased; he and the Guild would be getting a good chunk of whatever I could get for all that stuff. The gold wasn't really my concern; I'd get more than enough from the sale, enough to fund further research at least.

"Ebony daggers, fifteen, labelled by enchantment…" He muttered then frowned, "What in the name of Nocturnal is _ash hopper jelly?_"

"Alchemical ingredient. Can't get it in Skyrim."

He raised his eyebrows and nodded approvingly.

"Well Ellie, I'm glad I got Niranye on this… I'll have to call in Tonilia too, it's a _lot_ to move." He slapped a hand onto my back and grinned, "You're about to become a very wealthy woman."

I could only shrug; gold never held the same allure for me as it did for my brother. Probably why he was now Guildmaster of the most influential and intricate network of thieves in Tamriel.

* * *

Once business was conducted we headed straight for Candlehearth Hall in the city; the journey had been long, and we had too much to catch up on. By habit we settled ourselves upstairs at a small round table tucked in the corner so any conversation could be hidden from prying ears and eyes.

"So, I'm assuming I'm now allowed to tell the Guild that you're actually alive?"

Tristane took a good drink from his goblet while I tucked in to a huge plate of roasted vegetables; oh, I'd _missed_ real food!

"I suppose…" I said, then took a moment to chew and swallow, "Just don't go shouting it from the rooftops."

I heard Tristane let out a long sigh, his tankard clunking down on the table, "Lyrielle, I love you to pieces but by Nocturnal I will _never_ understand you. You're the _Dragonborn_. You… you went to _Sovngaurd_ and killed Alduin and y'know, _saved the world._"

"Yes?"

He was almost dumbfounded by my terse response. Almost. Tristane was all animation and expression, hands waving emphatically with every word.

"And then you disappear? They write songs about you, y'know. How can you resist it? The fans, the adoration…"

"The expectations," I finished for him, my upper lip curling into a subtle but rather twitchy snarl. It was an anger-twitch I'd never had until shortly after I'd joined with the Companions… a heartless laugh rushed from my nose, "Do you see just how infuriating destiny is? It suffocates. It takes away even the illusion of choice. I wasn't Lyrielle Ashwood anymore, I was the Dragonborn, _their_ Dragonborn. Like I belonged to them, not myself."

"Who's them?"

"_Everyone_. The Nords, the whole of Tamriel... I had to be what everyone expected me to be. Not easy when they were _expecting_ a giant Nord swinging an axe around like Ysgramor. The Greybeards wanted a devout follower of the Way of the Voice, the Blades-" I gritted my teeth a little; two years hadn't been enough to let that scar fade, "The Blades wanted me to be this great Dragon Slayer, the… the harbinger of the Dovah genocide!" I ran both hands through my hair and closed my eyes; I was getting worked up. "I was so tired of it. All that power, no control."

He reached out and put a hand onto my shoulder, gripping tightly and giving me a gentle rock.

"You got a bad habit of focusing on the negative side of things. You are really the only person I've ever met who could have a gift like _this_ and complain about it." He chuckled on his last few words, as he so often does. I smiled wryly.

"Its not the gift I'm complaining about. It's the people." I reached out for my wine, staring into the liquid. When I next spoke, my voice was a low growl. "It's time I belonged to myself. Time _I_ say what it is to be Dovakiin."

At that, I took a long drink from my wine. I felt Tristane's hand slide from my shoulder and when I looked to him, he was staring at me in a strange way.

"Ellie… just what _happened_ on that island?" he breathed. I blinked, cleared my throat and set down my goblet. Perhaps I had gotten a little dark there.

"A lot," I chuckled, "An awful lot… but! We've been talking about me for long enough. I want to hear what's happened with you, what happened with Mercer and the Guild and… _all_ of the bits you insisted you couldn't risk putting in your letters."

His shoulders dropped and he gave me the big-brother chastising stare.

"And _then_ I'll get onto what happened on Solsthiem," I finished, hand over my heart, "Promise."

He shook his head but was smiling now; he then cracked his neck, shifted in his chair so he was facing me full on and reached to turn me the same way. Here we go, Tristane's story time.

"Alright little miss," he said with a smile somehow both bright and dark, "Hold onto your garters, for I have a such a story for you! A tale of deceit, long-kept secrets, murder, intrigue, and culminating with my Lady, the Daedric Prince Nocturnal herself! Ah, that got your interest hmn? And it all began with one small job at the Honningbrew Meadery…"

And so, our night continued on, as happy and familiar as we ever were. I was a well-trained listener to my brother's stories; if he had not been a thief, he would certainly have been a bard. Tragically he couldn't sing and had no patience for learning an instrument. I reeled for some time as what he'd told me of the Thieves Guild, of Nocturnal, the Nightingales… till he reminded me it was then my turn to tell him of Solstheim.

I couldn't remember what small details I had written him in my letters about Miirak, so I simply started from the beginning; the cultists, the temple, the Black Books, Hermaus Mora, and Miirak himself. My story also took considerably longer to tell since my brother (a better talker than I) often took the liberty of interrupting me with opinions posed as questions.

But by the time I finished, he was speechless for a full thirty seconds, before pulling me into a tight hug.

From there, we simply kept talking; there was two years of catching up. I learned that the Guild was back on it's feet, had all of the major holds under its belt. Tristane had also wrangled his way into becoming Thane of Riften, (a task made easier since Maven Black-Briar had become Jarl) and had bought Honeyside. He also claimed to be sweet on Tonilia (unsurprising) but he spoke most often about Karliah, the Dunmer woman he'd met during the intrigue with Mercer… he had a _lot_ to say about her, in fact. What she thought, what she did, what an incredible archer and thief she was. And how she was still faithful to her dead lover, Gallus.

We talked business, too; I had news of Delvin's brother out in Raven Rock and a letter from him for Sapphire. There wasn't much action for the Guild out there, but with the mines reopened the town was sure to start growing again. There was no real way of knowing how long we sat… the candles were burning down to stubs, the other patrons had gone off to their homes or rooms, and our second wine bottle had emptied.

I didn't even yawn till the first rays of cold light began to glow through the window; we had talked all night.

"Well, this won't do," I said, stifling another yawn, "I'm supposed to set off in a few hours."

"Are you sure you want to go right to the College?" Tristane asked, "I know I kept encouraging you to go but… three years, another few days won't hurt, surely? Everyone at the Flagon will want to see you, and I really think you should go and see those Companions."

I rubbed an eye sleepily, "They've probably all but forgot about me…"

"Tssk! You know they haven't."

"Yes but you have to admit I never really fit in with them. You nearly died of laughter when I told you I'd joined…"

"Lyrielle," he said, with that older-sibling tone that warns you you're about to be bossed around, "They were good people to you, you said so yourself. They gave you what you needed to defeat Alduin and they certainly didn't turn on you like the Blades did. Did you ever even get a chance to thank them?"

A gave a resigned sigh, "…Brother, I hate when you're right."


	3. With Companions Like These

With Companions Like These...

Whiterun had barely changed since I'd left it. Some trees were bigger… the local children had grown but all in all, very little had changed.

Some people would do a double take as I walked past; only one or two actually stopped and stared, I suppose trying to work out how they knew me or if I was who they think I was. I guess I had changed a little myself over the years.

From habit now I wore my warpaint nearly every day, black smears over my eyes that swept out to my temples with droplet-marks on my cheeks. I'd also gotten lazy about my hair; I used to braid it back tightly, religiously, but after living in Solsthiem it was easier just to stuff it all into the back of my hood rather than braid and unbraid every day to try and brush out all the damn dust. This resulted of course was an explosion of my ridiculous red curls whenever I lowered my hood.

So I suppose the initial reaction to my return to Jorrvaskr was quite unsurprising. I halted under the Gildergreen tree in the park, gazing up the stairs to the mead hall. It looked the same as it ever was, too. But then, it was the oldest building in Whiterun, was it not? Built from the hull of the massive boat that brought the original five hundred Companions to Skyrim…

"This country has made me a history buff," I muttered. Summoning a breath I started up the steps, pushing into the old hall that for a few short months I had called home.

The same long table surrounding the same fire pit… the same warriors milling about, most at the table for lunch. It didn't surprise me I was mostly ignored, at first. I found myself giving a small smile, just watching them a moment. There was Aela, tall and lithe and in close conversation with Athis… dear Farkas alone at the other end, contentedly cutting into a lump of beef, Kodlak at the centre of the long table, reading a book while he drank from his tankard.

I searched the room - I couldn't see Vilkas. Then as if I'd summoned him myself, the doors across the back of Jorrvask opened and he strode in, unbuckling his gauntlets and pulling them off; the light sheen of sweat and the way his pitch black hair stuck out at strange angles told me he'd been training. He didn't sit at the table either, just leant over to grab a tankard and an apple from the centre of it. A voice suddenly interrupted my observation;

"Welcome to Jorrvaskr, if you're looking to hire some help you want to talk to A-" The woman stopped herself when I turned my face to look at her. I smiled,

"It's been a while, Ria."

Utter confusion crossed her tanned, Imperial face, jaw slowly dropping as she leant in to inspect me closer, "I… _Lyrielle?_"

The mead hall quickly fell silent at her almost-shriek and suddenly I felt the weight of many pairs of eyes on me. There was a long, still moment that began to give way to murmurs when I forced a nervous smile and raised a hand in greeting. Aela was the first to push back her chair and stride over, rousing everyone else into action.

"By the Gods… it can't be…" she breathed, examining me and soon I was surrounded by familiar faces.

"We thought she was-"

"I don't believe it- where have you _been?_"

"You're supposed to be dead!"

There were a lot of handshakes and backslaps; perhaps to see if I was really there. I felt my shoulders begin to relax, "Not dead, just gone for a while."

"Stars of Azura, it _is_ you!" Athis chuckled, the Dunmer looking me up and down, quizzically at my clothes. "What, you been to Morrowind?"

"Solsthiem, actually-"

As they began ushering me to the centre of the room, pelting me with questions, there was only two companions who hadn't rushed me. Kodlak sat calmly at his seat, unsurprised, his expression warm and welcoming.

Vilkas simply stood where he had been, apple still in hand and staring at me

"Sit down, you look tired," Aela said warmly, planting me in a seat and pouring me a generous mug of mead for which I was grateful. I glanced down the table to where Kodlak sat, smiling to himself.

"It's good to see you safely returned," he greeted, perhaps the only one who wasn't at all surprised to see me.

"It's good to be back," I replied, surprised to find how much I believed it. I couldn't help but let my gaze flick to the only person in the room who still hadn't said anything, even with one or two people chatting in my ear. Vilkas still had not moved, though the apple he held seemed about to be crushed by his grip. Finally, he spoke, though it was more of a growl.

"…You're _alive?_"

I pursed my lips in annoyance, "You make it sound like I'm doing that just to inconvenience you."

"_Two years_, and you're alive?"

"Vilkas, don't be so dour," Aela interrupted, and Vilkas leant himself against the railing of the stairs, frowning at me. Athis was shaking his head.

"She's been back one minute they're already at it…"

"So, what happened?" Farkas voiced, unperturbed by his brother's cold reception, "Last we saw you went flyin' off on the back of a dragon, and you didn't come back, now you're sayin' you're back from Solstheim?"

"What _happened_ that night with Alduin?" Aela pressed, everyone leaning in eagerly.

"It's a… very long story," I warned, but their expectant faces told me I had no choice but to continue. I drew a breath.

"I guess I'll start from the beginning…"

Memory slipped far back to that fateful night, and I recounted my memories from the moment I set off on the back of Odahviing for Skuldufn. The story was interrupted now and then, but when I told them of entering the portal to Sovngarde, everyone fell deathly silent. Kodlak watched me in sorrowful earnest, wanting to hear every possible detail. Sovngarde, the Nord Afterlife for the honoured dead… the memories I had of it were so dreamlike they was hard to hold on to, but I did my best. Even Vilkas approached and sat himself down at the table, listening closely when I began speaking of Shor's Hall.

"It was a land of tall hills and mountains, like a beautiful wild garden… Alduin had cloaked the valleys with mist, making souls lose their way, forget themselves. It took all my thu'um to try and clear it to Shors Hall and every time I did there'd be another soul there, wandering and lost."

There was a sharp pang around my heart, when I remembered what should have ben a beautiful walk.

"And some familiar faces…" After a beat I shook the melancholy from my mind

"But Shors Hall was safe from Alduin. The honoured dead really do live forever there, every great Hero of Old, sparring together, feasting, celebrating, all grievances put aside…"

I had to stop myself before I mentioned being greeted to Shor's Hall by Ysgramor himself. With Kodlak, Vilkas and Farkas listening it would have been cruel. The werewolf curse claimed their souls for Hircine after death; though Aela could see no greater afterlife than running the wilds of Hircine's hunting grounds, the other three…

And what about my soul…? I had been told I would be welcomed back to Sovngarde openly when my time came but what if my Beast Blood meant I was to share the same fate as the others in the Circle?

"Lyrielle, you alright?" Aela nudged me; I must have fallen silent. Clearing my throat I nodded, waving a hand.

"Yes, I'm fine…" And so I continued with my story, detailing my final battle with Alduin, farewelling my comrades in Sovngarde and waking at the Throat of the World. There was a fair share of comments and questions as anyone would expect, before the inevitable…

"But what happened after?" Ria pressed, "No one ever heard from you again after that, the whole of Skyrim thinks you're dead."

"That is…" I paused, feeling an acute twist of guilt as I tried to work out what to say. I didn't want to lie, but there were details I didn't want to share. In particular, what happened with the Blades afterward.

"I needed time to recover. As it turns our I wasn't given much time; I was passing through Falkreath Hold when I was attacked by cultists, and so we come to the _next_ great part of the story, why I left for Solsthiem." I summoned a breath, feeling a wave of exhaustion over me. I'd never been a huge talker, and for the majority of my life never once the centre of attention. Even now it was taking a lot of getting used to and I had just spent the better part of an hour on a story a quarter the length of what happened on Solsthiem.

"Would you mind my telling the shorter version for now? It's a lot to get through."

There were disappointed looks, but sympathetic nods. After taking a mouthful of mead I sighed.

"I was attacked by cultists from Solstheim who thought I was an impostor Dragonborn, so, I went there to investigate. That Island is the final resting place of Miirak, the first Dragonborn, who'd been a servant of Hermaus Mora and wound up trapped in the Plane of Oblivion known as Apocrypha. Now he was attempting to resurrect himself, mentally enslaving the entire island. I go to Solstheim, he figured he can use me to return to Tamriel, I fight him in Apocrypha and defeat him."

With that I slumped back into my chair, greeted with stunned silence, until Athis spoke up.

"Oi! You said the short version, not the bloody synopsis!"

"Are you making this up?" Ria queried with narrowed eyes and I sighed.

"Wish I was." It struck me that there was a good chance I'd have to recount this tale every time I ran into someone. I ran a hand through my hair. "I really should just have someone write all this down…"

"A great many writers would pay a lot of gold for your story," Aela nodded.

"I was just thinking it'd be a lot easier just to hand people a book rather than recount this every day."

"Well!" Aela decided, palms slapping down not he table, "I'd say this calls for celebration. Vignar and the others should be back soon, let's have some mead, some music and eventually you can tell us the _long_ version."

"Thankyou," I said quickly, "Though I do have to travel again tomorrow so-"

"No, no you don't, you can stay another day and night here. Besides, you can help me on a small job," she leant in knowingly, so that I would catch her meaning, "The twins have been so boring."

The wry smile curled at my lips. 'A job', of course… she might have said hunt, but with Kodlak there, I can imagine she didn't want to raise suspicion.

It occurred to me after Skjor's death, Aela was the only one in the Circle left who openly embraced the werewolf curse; Kodlak and Vilkas refrained from transforming and Farkas, well, he tended to go along with whatever his brother told him to do. I was ambivalent about my Beast Blood… but I couldn't say no to Aela's hopeful smile.

* * *

And so, I was greeted back into the Companions, and by nightfall Jorrvaskr was filled with noise and drink. Ria had taken out a lute and would strum away - though no Bard she knew how to pluck a tune or two. When the others returned from whatever job they and done the cacophony only grew, mead flowing, people singing and swapping stories. I felt exhausted; exhausted but of course not sleepy, and though it was wonderful to be back in their company I finally found a moment to sit in quiet conversation with Kodlak. It was a welcome respite; he didn't pelt me with questions, rather, allowed me to find out what had been happening with the Companions since I'd left.

"We have since found more fragments of Wuuthrad, and with luck, the next location will give us the last piece we need."

"What of the Silverhand?" I asked, taking a sip of my mead.

"Hmm. The cycle of retaliation continued on, as I thought it would," he said lowly, "You and Aela had weakened them, but they are people of conviction. I fear it is a war that will never end."

I nodded, "Then it's a war you have to win."

"It seems that may be so… They want the pieces of Wuuthrad themselves; perhaps only because they know we search for them. Aela said they were there when she went to collect the latest fragment."

"I could almost pity the Silverhand, running into her…"

"Her heart is not yet healed from the loss of Skjor," he confessed, his frown hidden by his thick white beard, "It pains me to say, but perhaps it never truly will be. A broken heart will never heal quite the same way; it is scarred, and worn."

A pensive silence fell, and I traced a finger around the top of my tankard, before finally speaking.

"…Kodlak I want to thank you, for what you said the last time we had a chance to speak like this."

His eyes crinkled with a rare, warm smile, "You had everything you needed to fight Alduin. All that was left was a little push. Have you considered now what you will do, now that troublesome destiny is taken care of?"

I chuckled, "Yes, the very reason I came to Skyrim nearly four years ago now; I'll finally go to the College at Winterhold."

"Ah, the Clever Craft… It would suit you well. But do not forget, you are still a Companion. You will have a home here." He was in earnest, and I nodded slowly.

"I won't. And you know, you can call on me, whenever you have need. Perhaps having a mage in your ranks could prove useful."

"I don't doubt it will," he agreed, and we shared a smile. After a moment though, he stood, rolling a stiff shoulder, "However, youngling, it's time for this old wolf to rest. Until tomorrow."

"Goodnight."

I smiled as I watched him cross the mead hall, disappearing downstairs, then cast my gaze to the the rowdy company; how could I have thought for one moment that I wouldn't come to see them once more?

However for the moment, their spirits were so high my exhausted body could not compete. Craving a little silence, I slipped to the side, and out the doors tot he courtyard.

The icy night air of Whiterun hit me hard after the stifling heat inside, and I breathed it in deeply. Ah, Whiterun… sitting in the very heart of Skyrim, it had a strange habit of pulling me back to it any chance it got. I settled myself on the stone steps, glancing up to Dragonsreach as it cast a shadow over the courtyard. And it suddenly reminded me of the last time I had seen this city… the last time I had seen so many people and left them behind, flying of on the back of a dragon-

_Vorstag's hands covered mine, holding them tightly, the Blades gauntlet creaking around his fingers._

_"Lyri, you can't do this," he said hoarsely and I could feel my own throat tighten, "You can't go there alone I won't let you-"_

_"I have to, there's no other way to Skuldufn."_

_He pulled me closer to him, a hand coming out to cup my cheek. It was so hard to look into his eyes just then, those dark brown eyes swimming with something I'd never seen even cross his face. Fear. There was a long silence as every reality began hitting home for both of us. I might never come back; I knew I would have to face Alduin, but beyond that my fate was unknown._

_"Promise me you'll come back," Vorstag said quietly. I swallowed a thick lump in my throat, reaching up and gently moving a hay-coloured lock of hair from his eyes._

_"I don't make promises I can't keep."_

_Agony slashed his features and I felt it pierce me in turn. What if this was it? What if this was the last time I ever touched him, held him? I reached up and crushed my lips against his; he responded in kind, pulling me in so close he might have consumed me whole. There were no more words left. All I could do was kiss him._

I touched my fingers to my lips at the memory. Should I go back? Return to Skyhaven Temple? I know I was banished from there but it had been more than two years since that day…

It _had_ been more than two years. The Blades were my past, and I had promised myself to go forward… I hadn't heard from Vorstag in so long but there was a small flame of hope nestled in me. Something that made me close my eyes now and then and imagine ridiculous, impossible things. That I could go back to Skyhaven, Delphine would apologise and admit she was wrong and give up her ridiculous grudge that was keeping me and Vorstag apart. And he'd be there, with an Amulet of Mara under his cuirass.

It was always then I'd abruptly shake my head. Two years on my own had done a lot to help soften the ache, and given a little more time I was so, so sure it could heal completely. Perhaps there'd always be a little part of me wondering _what if?_ But if it was meant to be, I wouldn't be sitting here alone right now.

The sound of heavy footsteps interrupted my reverie, not coming from the mead hall but rather, the pathway around it. I glanced up over my shoulder, eyes rolling when I saw who it was.

Vilkas couldn't hide the disappointed look when he saw me sitting there. He carried a bottle of mead, holding it by the neck between two fingers.

"Where have you been?" I asked and he raised an eyebrow.

"Walking. I thought you'd be enjoying your party?" he growled lowly with that thick, mid-East Nord accent. I usually loved to hear it but from him… he was just… _insufferable_.

"I just needed some air."

He paused on the steps as he was about to walk past me, "What, the underserved warm welcomes becoming a little stifling?"

"Impossible." I held back the small twitch around my mouth, "The coldness of your reception made a refreshing balance."

"You're surprised I'm not falling at your feet like everyone else?"

"You're too predictable to ever surprise me." I took a drink of my mead thinking he'd go, but he crossed his arms and slumped against a pillar for a moment, glaring at me.

"I'd rather be predictable," he decided, "Shows I have a reliable moral compass."

That twitch was back again, tugging at my lip, and I glared up at him.

"So, to be clear, I'm not welcome here, I'm undeserving of my friends, and now I have no morals. You've done spectacularly well in less than a minute."

"And what did you expect?"

"From you? Always very little."

He shrugged with a silent laugh, actually giving a half smile but he quickly wiped it away. Vilkas had never bothered to hide his utter disdain for me; in his grand opinion no 'spell-slinging thief' was up to being a Companion. I actually agreed with that but unfortunately couldn't let it stop me; I had a destiny to deal with after all. So I, in turn, never bothered to hide the fact I thought him an arrogant, brooding pig-head who thought he was smarter than everyone else.

He hadn't changed much through the years, though he did seem far more bitter than I remembered him.

"So where is it you're travelling to after this?" he broached, "Back to Riften to nest in with those thieves?"

"The College of Winterhold, actually."

"And how long will you stay there? One month? Two? Then dump them and maybe go join the Dawngaurd after that?"

I blinked up at him sharply, and he just glared right back.

"How much have you had to drink?" I asked synically; I half expected him to smirk, but I was greeted instead with a sober glower.

"I don't have to drink to dislike you."

I looked away from him then, feeling a burning in my cheeks and buzzing in my mind. He'd always been ready with a remark, but when I thought back on it he never seemed this cruel. Perhaps I'd been out of the firing line of his insults too long…

"Did you have anything of actual importance to say, or are you just seizing the opportunity to be a boor?" I growled.

"What are you planning on doing with Aela?" he said lowly and I shrugged.

"She's offered to travel with me to Winterhold."

He only looked back at me blankly, a hidden tone of danger behind his silver eyes. I knew that look; it had worked on me many times before. This time I simply stead back flatly at him and didn't elaborate.

"Maybe you've just been away too long, but you do remember where Kodlak stands on transforming without need?"

"Don't confuse wit with being snide," I retired flatly, "The latter doesn't suit you."

"Are you doing a job with her then?"

I stood, brushing down my clothes and turning to go back inside.

"It's a scenic trek and _Aela_ know how to be good company," I said pointedly, "And speaking of which, I think I'll go find myself some."

"Now who's being snide?" He growled at my back. I halted, mouth twitching again before I forced myself back inside Jorrvaskr.


	4. Going Away To College

Going Away To College

Every chirp of of a bird was sharp and echoing; the colours of the world were dull and grey but the darkness could hide nothing from my eyes. Scents of the world poured through my senses, where every forest creature had ran, hundreds of trails, some fresh, some long gone…

Stone and broken sticks felt soft under my paws, leaves and branches that whipped me were no more than feathers as I charged through the forest, all for limbs powering me, my claws digging up earth. My breaths were snarls, determined to catch up with her.

The wolf in front of me sprung along the ground and would leap on boulders, showing off the strength of her form as if to incite a challenge. She ran without purpose, and I could close in, I could catch her-

She sprung down from a boulder and I leapt, claws stretching out and I slammed into her side with a mighty _thud_. We rolled along in the leaf litter, jaws and fangs snapping and voices barking and snarling, trying to pin each other down; just as I thought I had the upper hand her powerful hind legs kicked my stomach and threw me off her; I slid along the leaves and sprung back onto all fours, snarling, snapping, challenging her.

Aela barked something that might have been a laugh, shaking her fur and I felt my own heavy breaths begin to slow, the wild Beast starting to clear from my head. She was always much more conscious than me, than any of us, when she was in her Werewolf form. It was why I could trust myself enough to run with her.

She sniffed along the ground, a wide, fresh scent catching my nose too. A bear… big, meaty… Aela scratched at the dirt and snapped almost playfully when we had both picked up the same scent.

Like that we sprung after it as a new hunting game started, shoving each other and barrelling after the trail, determined to beat each other to the prey. We had too much energy to stalk and play stealth; as we cleared boulders our powerful noses sucked in the scent, all thoughts lost to the hunt.

Our prey came into view; the huge brown bear, seeing us and standing to it's full height, roaring thunderously.

My jaws stretched open as we slammed into it at the same time, snapping down over its neck and twisting. It was dead before it hit the ground.

_Blood, hot and fresh, the tearing of skin, feeling the animal's bones crunch weakly under my bite. Delicious, chewy fat, the filling, succulent meat, the soft, bloody liver…_

I threw back my head and howled a glorious cry to the moons, Aela joining with bloodthirsty delight.

* * *

The horizon was only _just_ showing hints of light when we returned to our campsite by Lake Jorgrim. We sniffed the air searching for signs of humans, though it was not easy to smell anything over the coppery blood that coated my nose. I followed Aela; I was not as much in my right senses as she was, instead trusting my forbear's leadership.

She slunk her way through the trees down to the water, the cold not bothering her as she slipped in, splashing her head and paddling around. I followed, the blood washing away from my already dark-red fur, though animal instinct would not let me put my snout under the water. I found the coldness helped clear my mind, capable of more cognitive thought, more human thought. Though, that always seemed to happen right before I…

My lumbering werewolf body stumbled clumsily to get out of the water right as I could feel my bones and muscle shrinking, the fur disappearing into my skin and-

"AAAH! Cold! _Cold cold cold!_"

I was still waist deep in the lake when I snapped back to my human body, the icy water stabbing at me and knocking the air out of my lungs as I struggled desperately to shore, arms wrapped around my torso and trotting to try and warm up. After all this time and I still had nearly no control of when I morphed back; there was a time limit on all transformations, but Aela seemed to be able to decide just when and where that would happen.

As it was, I was now frigidly dancing around naked on the banks of the lake, hunting in the dark for our campsite. It was just a small fire pit we had dug and filled with wood, by a hollowed out tree stump that we hid all of our belongings in.

I was shaking so hard from the cold I could barely breathe, hands rattling as I tried to summon a fire spell, blasting a plume of flames into the fire pit. The warmth instantly began melting my skin and I edged closer to it. Behind me, Alea clawed her way out of the lake, calmly shaking her fur off and slowly morphing back as she walked over.

_Stupid Nords and their resistance to the cold!_

"I really thought you'd have the hang of changing back by now?" she chuckled, hunting through the stump and dragging out the cotton sheet to dry off with, tossing it to me. I eagerly rubbed down my arms, still edging from side to side to warm up as she began tossing me my clothes. Aela had agreed to go halfway with me to Winterhold, on the condition that we hunt for one night. I'd forgotten that meant being quite further North than usual.

"Oh come on, it's not that cold!"

"That's-s e-eas-sy f-f-for you t-to s-say!" I scrambling into the clothes, snuggling closer to the fire and twisting the water out of the tips of my hair. Aela was chuckling, pulling on some fur clothes. She eventually made her way to the fire, comfortably sitting down on one of the logs.

"See, there are advantages to having a mage," she said, holding out her hands, "Roaring fire in a few small seconds."

The heat had finally melted away most of the cold in my skin, and I sighed contentedly, settling on the dry, cold grass. Once my fingers had stopped shaking I was able to lace up my stays properly.

"Hey, you better wash your face before you head out tomorrow," Aela said and I wiped at my cheeks and chin, dried blood flaking off my skin. She tutted, "I told you, just dunk your head under water before you transform."

"See, you _say_ that, but unlike you I don't have that kind of clear thinking. I try to dunk my head under and the Beast just starts whining."

"_Whining?_"

"Well not whining but… you know my meaning."

She chuckled, stretching her arms and looking very peaceful.

"Hey, you won't be staying up there at the College forever right?" she asked quietly, "I haven't had a good hunt like that in a long time."

I hugged my knees to my chest, feeling the exhaustion of the transformation take over my body. I stifled a yawn when I answered, "Don't worry, you'll see me again… the boys not so good for hunts, hmm?"

"You know how they feel about Hircines Gift," she said bitterly, "I can't even remember the last time Kodlak or Vilkas transformed. As for Farkas… now and then he has trouble holding it back, but you know he follows wherever Vilkas leads. I'd feel guilty trying to coerce him into hunting with me. At least when Skjor was here, we… felt like a pack."

Quiet settled like snow; Aela was fierce, to be sure, but despite appearances she truly appreciated company. I rested my chin on my knees.

"Yeah… well don't worry. Winterhold to Whiterun really isn't that far when you're running on four legs… And this _is_ a refreshing change to the idea of a girl's night out."

We both laughed and Aela nodded, "True. Perhaps I can get Ria and Njada to take the blood-"

"Four bitches out on the town?"

She laughed again, "Exactly! And Njada's already a bitch, so she'd make a great wolf."

We both snorted and fell into laughter. I was surprised that I had missed this; Aela certainly had. After a while our mirth died down, and she blinked at me through the fire.

"Kodlak's looking for a cure," she said quietly, and I nodded.

"I know…"

"…Would you take it?"

I couldn't answer right away, and when I didn't, Aela continued, "I know the blood never really… I know why you took Hircine's gift. You didn't think you were strong enough to face Alduin."

"That's why you offered it to me in the first place," I replied gently. She rested her elbows on her knees.

"Yeah… but I just wonder if that's what you really wanted."

I hummed a little at her words. I don't know that I'd ever been truly comfortable with the wolf. When I had first been changed, I was completely out of control; no one had considered what would happen when someone of Dragon blood took the Wolf blood too. I didn't sleep for a week, I was constantly on the edge of my temper and when I transformed, I barely knew myself.

"I mean you're in much better control of it now," she voiced hopefully. I had to shrug.

"I think… no, I _want_ Kodlak to get his cure. I'd like to know that there _is_ a cure, just so I know I have a choice. I hate not being in control of something and not having choices… and I do sometimes wonder about what happens after."

"The Hunting Grounds…" Aela murmured wistfully. I had to smile; she'd be happy running the wilds with Hircine, reunited with Skjor. I felt differently, however…

"What concerns me is being tied to a Daedric Prince after my death. I've seen what can happen to a soul that ties themselves to the Daedra. But again, I don't know what I'd choose."

Aela seemed to accept this, and we fell into conversation a while longer before crawling into our relative sleeping rolls. The stars were slowly disappearing when sleep finally crept up on me.

By the time I woke up, Aela was already gone, leaving only a note stuck to the tree stump with a steel arrow.

_"You better make it big at that College, spell-slinger.  
Don't be a stranger._

_-Aela"_

* * *

Winterhold was probably one of the bleakest little towns I had ever encountered, yet still was the 'capitol' of an entire hold. There were perhaps only five small buildings left, all blanketed with snow and clumped by the landing of the bridge that lead out to the massive College, sitting tall on the rock stack jutting out of the ocean. It was the only structure left untouched by the Great Collapse. The weather was horrible, too, a steady, constant wind spraying snow across the village, under a dull grey sky.

Still it was a relief to walk through Winterhold, to see the tall arch leading to the long bridge that wound up to the College. My heart began to pound; I'd been here once before in search of an Elder Scroll, but now after nearly four years, I was finally, _finally _here, to _study_. I nibbled my lower lip, eyes going wide as I began to see the College through the mists of the sea.

There was a tall woman at the first landing of the bridge, High Elf on closer inspection. I thought I recognised her from my last visit, with her golden skin and pale hair.

She was slumped against the wall and reading through a book, her hand twisting in the air as she idly practised a spell; when she heard me shuffling through the shallow snow she stood up straighter, surveying me.

"Halt!" she called out when I started up the steps, "Cross the bridge at your own peril. The way is da-"

"Really, you need to say that every time a stranger approaches?" I chuckled; the Elf, Faralda, if I recall correctly simply smirked and folded her arms. I lowered my hood, "I've been to the College before, to speak with your Librarian, Urag gro-Shub. That was some time ago now, but I've come back hoping to join as a student."

I'd been practising that simple speech in my head. Perhaps it seemed silly, but a great many of my hopes were hanging on her response. Faralda looked me up and down, then leant in, inspecting me closely.

"You… what business did you have with Urag?"

I'd been hoping to play down the 'Dragonborn' stuff for a while; it seemed however the subject was inevitable.

"It was concerning the location of an Elder Scroll."

Faralda blinked, then eventually her jaw began to drop.

"You-" she started, "I thought I recognised you! But, you're supposed to be dead-"

"So everyone keeps telling me…"

"You're really the Dragonborn?" Faralda breathed and I gave a resigned nod, holding out my hand.

"Lyrielle, please."

Faralda blinked, then quickly shook my hand, chuckling, "Yes… of course you have a name, I do apologise… however…" she paused, narrowing her eyes at me, "How am I to be sure you really are the Dragonborn? Could you shout for me?"

My shoulders sagged, "I… Faralda I don't want to get access to the College by right of birth."

"Oh don't think of it like that." She waved a hand dismissively, "The Dragonborn did a great deed for the world. I'd simply like to see an example of your… _thu'um_, is it?"

"To check if I'm telling the truth?"

"Well, I was trying to be polite about it."

I chuckled and shook my head, "_Krosis_. My manners are slipping lately… very well."

She smiled excitedly as I took a few steps past her, looking up to the swirling skies. I slowly breathed in, my mind filling with sunlight-

"LOK _VAH KOOR!_"

The shouts snapped like thunder and struck the sky, winds softening and snow clearing… soon, the clouds themselves began to part and in a matter of seconds Winterhold was bathed in sunlight and clear skies.

"Astounding… simply _amazing_." Faralda walked up behind me, smiling up at the blue, "I believe the College would be glad to have you among it's scholars. Please, follow me."

My stomach flipped and I quickened to keep in step with her as we started over the long, narrow bridge, as it zig-zagged from stack to stack; I hugged my leather satchel of notes close to my chest, nibbling my bottom lip.

"What is it you intend to focus your studies on whilst you are here?" Faralda asked.

"Enchanting; I'm proficient but… my former master decided he had nothing left he wanted to teach me." My nose crinkled and I added with a mutter, "Neloth always was a pig-head…"

Faralda halted, blinking at me, "Wait, _you_ studied under Neloth, of house Telvanni?"

"It's where I've been these two years."

"…I'd have lead with that." She turned and continued along the bridge, "Any secondary schools?"

"Destruction and Alteration, I think."

"You will find all lectures and lessons here are quite balanced between each school, most studies beyond that are driven by your own initiative, or private tutoring. I for one can teach you Destruction magic, should you really wish to _excel_ in that field." She stopped at a round well on the last landing, casting a bright orb of light into it; the well lit up a beacon of blue, and ahead of us, the gates to the College swung open. I clutched the leather satchel even tighter, gazing up at the beautiful building. It was tall and built of grey stone; circular towers centred around the courtyard holding a frosted garden dominated by the large statue of the first Arch Mage. I felt my throat get tight.

"When you are ready, speak to Mirabelle Ervine. She handles the day-to-day business of the school and will get you settled in." Faralda said kindly and I nodded, stepping through the gates.

"Welcome to the College of Winterhold."

* * *

It was everything I'd ever dreamed.

I had been impressed the first time I'd seen the building, but to be a part of the small community was wonderful; I'd never felt so at home so quickly. They didn't concern themselves with politics, there were no arts that were banned (so long as it didn't involve blowing up the College or harming your fellow students), the sole, primary focus, was knowledge. I bunked in the Hall of Attainment, the western-most tower of the building where most of the new initiates were housed.

Our days would follow a similar pattern, but no one day ever felt the same. Of a morning, a quick breakfast then down to the Hall of the Elements for classes. After a small break another of the masters would give a lecture, and beyond that each student was quite welcome to spend their time as they pleased. I could bury myself in the Arcanaeum under mountains of books, practise my spells with Brelyna and J'Zargo in the courtyard, or on a fine day go walking through the snowfields to track down trolls and fill some soul gems.

By nightfall, the College settled into quiet, lulled by the gentle washing of the ocean waves. On clear nights more than a few people preferred to rug up warmly and sit outside; this far north, no other place in Skyrim had such a view of the beautiful northern lights. Otherwise we'd retreat inside to sup. Most evenings I'd be at my desk, practising the Dragon language, delving through my notes, or writing letters.

Only a week in and I received my first letter from my brother, two pages of his blotchy chicken-scratch telling me about his good friend Enthir, a loose associate of the Thieves Guild and who could 'acquire' me some useful items. A lot of anecdotes about Karliah, and more than a few personal enquiries from members of the Guild. I would have to find time to travel to Riften soon…

Then a letter from Whiterun, three separate pages folded into one. The first two were from Aela, chatty and bringing me up to speed on everything happening with the Companions. The other page was from Farkas of all people; I could recognise his careful handwriting and occasional bad spelling. It was a short and sweet note, hoping I was enjoying school and saying I should come back to visit Whiterun soon. He had been happy, Vilkas had been sullen, and if they had a job taking them out to Winterhold he'd like to visit.

After a few weeks of greedily sucking up every scrap of information I could, my mind began to settle and focus on one particular school. I had excelled far in Enchanting, so much so even Sergius Turrianus said there was nothing more he could teach me.

But I was determined… for the hundredth time, I read and re-read that damn book, Twin Secrets, each time determined to do the impossible.

I'd succeed in bending the Law of Firsts, and _twice_ enchant an object.


End file.
